Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Iwant many things from you, Helena, many of which I am not entitled to.”
Bosom heaving, Helena blinked at Silas, wondering if he was mocking her. He didn’t seem to be, but she couldn’t think of another explanation for his words.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, beyond tired of his riddles and stonewalling.
He shook his head. “You should get some rest. I should leave you to—” he began to stand up.
She reached for his arm, to stall him, before she could think. “No. Don’t… don’t go.”
“Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”
“No. But… please, stay?”
She blushed, mortified at her neediness, but was unable to keep quiet any longer. She felt too lost, too alone, too adrift in a sea of uncertainty and Silas was just making it worse with his reticence.
Silas’s face softened. “Oh. All right. I’ll stay.”
He took her hand from his arm, turning it around to stare at her palm as if he were a fortune teller. He looked at it for a long time before running his thumb against her calluses.
“Your hands tell such a story of your life. A difficult one, maybe, but resilient as well. Hands that don’t give up or give in.” He looked up at her, placing her hand against his cheek, his eyes closed. “A little rough perhaps from all the misuse, but not neglected. Not uncared for.”
“What…” she began to say, confused.
“Hush. Allow me to finish,” he interrupted.
She nodded to him to continue.
He palmed her hand in both of his. “The moment I saw you, I was intrigued by the utter fearlessness in your eyes. You looked me in the eye as if you were my equal, and not a raggedy girl sneaking around a convent.” He smiled.
“And well… you saw me. Do you remember what you told me the night you caught me playing the pianoforte? Before Amelia showed up?”
Helena hesitated, her mind flooding with the memory of her singing, and her cheeks heated up once more. But then, she recalled how vulnerable he’d been, only for that brief moment.
“That you play beautifully,” she repeated. “And that your playing didn’t sound like someone who wishes to disappear.”
He nodded. “Then you touched my cheek. You just touched my cheek, Helena, and I felt like I’d fall apart. Turn into a cloud. Become one with the air. I don’t know,” he sighed, looking down at her hands.
“I…I didn’t mean to upset you—”
“Helena,” he cut her off, looking up from her hands, meeting her gaze, his serious and unsmiling. “You didn’t upset me.”
“Oh,” she blinked, her pulse picking up. “Then…”
He leaned closer, his eyes still fixed on her.
“I want you, Helena. I want you as you are—fierce, fearless, spirited, and protective of those you love. I want to experience how it feels to be the object of your emotion, to have all that passion… aimed at me.”
Helena blinked a few times, quite taken aback by his unabashed honesty.
“I…” she laughed helplessly. “I have no idea what…”
She shook her head. This was too far out of her sphere of experience for her to know how to respond.
“You are inexperienced, I know. Yet you are in your full flower of womanhood. An intriguing dichotomy indeed.”
“What does that mean?”
He shook his head as he looked at her as if in wonder. “It means I am intrigued by you, enamored by your guilelessness, your ability to maintain your honest self no matter what. It is rare for us spies to experience.” He grinned.
Helena considered him closely. “I am not sure what you mean there.”
He chuckled. “I mean that I would very much like to kiss you, Helena.”
A tantalizing shiver tingled her spine, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest.
“Then… do it.” She was surprised by her own boldness, but also eager to experience again his lips on hers.
She sat very still, anticipation buzzing under her skin.
Still, Silas hesitated, making Helena frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you certain?” he asked.
Her frown deepened. “What do you mean, am I certain? Certain about what?”
He put his hand on her arm, rubbing gently. “About what you’re agreeing to.”
She gave a tired sigh. “Silas, I do know what men and women do in the marriage bed. The girls at the abbey whispered about it all the time.”
Silas gave a half-indulgent smile. “And what exactly did they whisper?”
Helena narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you going to make fun of me?”
“I won’t.” Silas shook his head emphatically, “I am just… curious.”
“Humph.” Helena pouted. “Well, I don’t know exactly but there was kissing involved, and lying in bed together after.”
“And… that is what you’re offering? Kissing and lying together?”
“I expect that you’ll show me what I’m supposed to do.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you want me to, or are you doing what you think is expected?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “If you mean, do I want you to kiss me like you did before, then the answer is yes.”
He smiled, looking very pleased. “Good. That’s all I needed.”
She closed her eyes, and lifted her chin. He laughed softly and she opened one eye to see him reach for her chin, cupping it gently.
“Open your eyes. I want you to see everything I do to you.”
Slowly, she let her eyes open, cheeks reddening.
He was very close. She could see the dark little flecks in his blue-gray eyes, the tiny freckle just to the left of his temple.
She could feel the tickle of his hair on her forehead, his breath, ghosting the skin of her cheeks, making her break out in goosebumps.
Her breath came faster and shorter, bosom heaving, her fingers shaking a little uncontrollably. He had yet to touch her, but she felt completely unbalanced already, as if she had been launched off the top of a cliff. Maybe she would hit the water, or maybe she’d be dashed against the rocks.
Either way, it was now completely out of her control.
He closed the distance between them, his mouth pressing down gently on hers.
It was nothing like how he’d kissed her before. He was careful, his fingers barely touching her cheeks, his mouth merely ghosting along hers, like butterfly wings, barely making an impact, just teasing with their presence.
She made a sound of frustration, surging upwards to press closer to him, sucking on his lower lip, nipping at it, pulling it into her mouth. His hands cradled her head, holding it in place as he took over the kiss.
His tongue thrust its way into her mouth, staking a claim of ownership as he held her captive, unable to do anything but take.
She moaned into his mouth, arching her back into him, her breasts brushing against his chest. She could feel her nipples pebble, and the desire washed over her for him to touch them.
She made a whimpering, pleading sound, too shy to ask directly, as she rubbed her breasts against him. Seeming to understand her actions, his hands trailed down from her face, down her arms to cup her breasts, even as he continued to kiss her.
She shimmied, her entire body shuddering in reaction to his fingers on her nipples. She pulled back to look into his eyes.
“Please,” she whispered, not at all sure what she was begging for.
“Hush, I’m going to take care of you,” he whispered, kissing his way along her jaw, behind her ear before taking a nip of her ear lobe and then blowing into her ear.
She shuddered, surprised at how… pleasurable it felt. Like thousands of little fingers tickling down her side.
She grasped his lapels, hanging on tight as her knees went weak. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back in submission. He licked along the vein in her neck before biting down with a growl.
Suddenly he picked her up, making her squeak, and carried her over to the bed. He dropped her onto it, looking down at her with his chest heaving.
“Ever since that day in the library, I’ve imagined you here, lying down…looking at me as you do now,” he whispered as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor.
She followed the piece of cloth to the ground with her eyes before looking back at him. He was unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze never leaving her.
“Ever since that day, your moans, your curves…they were burned into my mind. I’ve longed to close my eyes just to see you in my arms again, trembling against me…” he added.
Helena inhaled sharply, as if the words had brushed against her skin. Her pulse throbbed in her temples, in her chest, in the hollow of her stomach. A warmth bloomed there, spreading through her limbs….so utterly intoxicating.
She looked down at her shift, suddenly understanding why Patricia had dressed her in something so easy to take off. She touched the thin cotton, wondering if she really had the courage to expose herself to Silas’s eyes like that.
Silas’s hands went to the flies of his breeches, and she kept her eyes pinned on him, her lips parted.
“Do you want me to take them off?” Silas asked.
Helena forced herself to open her eyes. “Yes, I—I do. Pl-please continue.”
“You’re so delicious when you beg, wife,” he growled and hooked his hands into the waist of his breeches, still watching her carefully, before pulling them down.
Her breath stopped as she traced the line of hair that went from the middle of his chest, down in a trail to nestle his erect member in a nest of dark brown.
Her breath came faster and faster as she started to imagine on just what he meant to do next. He put one knee on the bed, and leaned towards her like a stalking panther.
He stalked closer and closer until he was looming over her.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
“Yes. Yes, I am. I want you, Silas,” she breathed out, a secret she’d been stifling deep inside of her, forbidding it from rising.
But now, they were past the point of no return.
Silas’s eyes shone with a dark excitement. He leaned down, and kissed her. It started out gentle and careful, but then he covered her with his body, his mouth plundering hers, his body enveloping hers, as she got lost in his embrace.
He was touching her everywhere, his hands on her thighs, pushing her shift out of the way, caressing her as he widened her legs, nestling between them.